


Never Again

by broodywolf



Series: Fenhawke Week Fics [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fenris with long hair, Garrett Hawke is a lovable doofus, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 16:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4442489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/broodywolf/pseuds/broodywolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris arrives at Skyhold after the events at Adamant, and Hawke is reduced to a blubbering mess over him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Again

Hawke was hiding.

Well, not really hiding. Standing in plain view on the battlements in broad daylight couldn’t really be counted as hiding, he supposed. But Varric had often accused him of hiding in the time he’d spent at Skyhold, and the dwarf wasn’t wrong. Hawke just… couldn’t.

In Kirkwall, he had been in his element. In the Hanged Man, surrounded by his friends, he hadn’t minded so much being the center of attention. The famed Champion of Kirkwall. But ever since what happened with Anders and the Chantry… the mantle of the Champion had felt more and more like a burden. And then he had arrived at Skyhold and the fortress’s inhabitants had looked on him with a level of hero worship second only to that directed at the Inquisitor herself, like he could actually fix any of this, and it had just been too much for him. And now, with Alistair’s death just one more weight upon his shoulders…. Yes, he was hiding. As cold as it was this high in the mountains, few visited the ramparts save the occasional patrol. And, he noticed occasionally, the Inquisitor. They had exchanged understanding nods and left each other to their quiet contemplation. So, although he was technically in plain view should anyone have need of him, it was as good a hiding place as any.

He had tried, when he first came to the Inquisition, to make himself more of a presence around Skyhold. He had joined the others a few times, mostly at Varric’s urging, at the Herald’s Rest, but he was certain he made for poor company. Every reverential whisper of _“It’s the Champion of Kirkwall!_ ” made him flinch, and every couple seeking out a quiet corner to find solace in each other’s arms had him aching for the lover he had left behind. No, he was in no fit state to be among company.

And, like clockwork, the familiar ache in his chest was back. He felt the elf’s absence like it was a part of himself that was physically missing, and it _hurt_. He tried to remind himself that he had done it to keep Fenris safe, to keep him far away from all of this, but now… Hawke would give anything just to see him again. He knew he needed to set out for Weisshaupt soon, but the resolve he’d had when he first left Fenris behind had crumbled and he knew that journey would only mean months more without seeing the man he loved. If that made him weak… well, then he was weak.

The horn sounded then, signaling travelers approaching the keep. More pilgrims, perhaps; most of the Inquisition had left for the Arbor Wilds and were not expected back for weeks yet. A lone, cloaked figure came into view on the bridge. Well, not pilgrims then, for they always arrived in groups. The way was somewhat perilous, and there was safety to be found in numbers.

The figure halted near the gate. Hawke couldn’t hear over the wind whipping past his ears, but he knew the guard would be prompting the man (woman? He couldn’t be certain with that cloak) to state his business. Whoever it was did not seem to have any patience for such precautions, for they strode forward, one arm reaching from under the cloak to seize the guard by the front of her armor, and surely he was imagining the blue-ish glow surrounding that arm- he had just been thinking of the lyrium-tattooed elf, after all- but then the hood of the cloak fell back to reveal a shock of white hair, and all semblance of rational thought left Hawke’s mind. He took the stairs so quickly it was a wonder he didn’t fall and break his neck in his haste, then he was bounding across the upper courtyard and then more stairs and then he was nearing the gate, and- _Fenris_.

The manic urgency that had carried him from the battlements to the gate in record time left him all at once, and all he could do was stare. Fenris still wore the same familiar armor, though he did make a few concessions to the cold: the thick cloak which had at first hidden his gorgeous form, a grey, woollen scarf, and, much to Hawke’s surprise, a pair of boots. His lover’s face was unchanged, though his hair had grown long; the gleaming white strands were pulled back messily to keep them out of his face. Even weary and grimy with travel as he was, Fenris was still without a doubt the most beautiful sight Hawke had ever laid eyes on.

Fenris finally saw him, then, for his hold on the poor guard was loosening, and then green eyes were locked on Hawke’s. The scowl on Fenris’s face melted and before Hawke could even react he found himself being hurtled backwards several paces by an armful of elf.

“ _Festis bei umo canavarum_. Hawke, I… I thought you were _dead_. You leave, and then I hear rumors you went _physically_ into the Fade…” Seeming to suddenly remember his anger, Fenris peeled himself off of Hawke to fix him with a determined glare. “You will _never_ do this to me again.”

Heedless of Fenris’s glowering, Hawke lifted his hands to cup his face reverentially, gently tucking a few escaped strands of hair behind one pointed ear. He knew that a hopelessly soppy grin had taken over his own features, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Unable to wait a moment longer, Hawke brought one hand to cradle Fenris’s neck, reeling him in and crashing their lips together, slightly more violently than he’d really meant to in his haste.

It took more than that to put Fenris off though, and he wasted no time in catching up, deepening the kiss to plunder Hawke’s mouth with his tongue. A sound halfway between a moan and a hum of delight escaped Hawke then, and he snaked one arm beneath Fenris’s cloak to pull the elf closer. Fenris growled, pulling hard on Hawke’s lower lip with his teeth, but then he kissed him softly, moving his lips gently against Hawke’s, if still urgently. Fenris broke the kiss then, carding gauntleted hands through Hawke’s hair to pull him close, foreheads touching as they both breathed deeply, basking in the feeling of being together once more. Hawke ran his fingers through Fenris’s hair, momentarily confused when it didn’t end where his memories expected it to.

“Your hair…” Hawke trailed off, leaning back to study every minute detail of his lover’s features, committing them once more to memory.

“It needs cutting, I know,” Fenris said, nose crinkling adorably in distaste.

“Don’t you _dare_.” Hawke laughed, undoing the strip of leather which bound the platinum locks, the better to admire them.

Fenris huffed, but the corner of his lips quirked up in a small smile nonetheless, and he looked down in what Garrett knew was an attempt to hide the slight flush coloring his cheeks. Garrett melted at the sight, and clamped his mouth shut as his laughter threatened to give way to sobs of relief.

“Hawke, I- Garrett, are you crying?” Fenris reached up as though to wipe away the tears now streaming down his cheek, but, remembering his spiked gauntlets, settled for gripping Hawke by the shoulders.

“Shut up,” Hawke said thickly, “I haven’t seen you in over a year, I’m allowed to cry.”

“You are the one who left me behind, you know.”

“Worst decision I ever made. Never letting you out of my sight again.”

“You know, that might get a bit tedious. What about using the toilet?” Fenris asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. “What ab-”

“Oh c'mere, you,” Hawke cut him off, using the hand still resting on the small of the elf’s back to pull him close, tears still running down his face. “I like the hair,” he said, burying his face in it. Fenris hummed.

“I love you, Hawke. I am still angry with you, but…”

“You can be furious all you like later. Just… _maker_ , I missed you so much. And I love you too, Fenris. More than you know.”

“Oh, I think I might have an idea.”

Hawke chuckled, and held Fenris close. _Never again_ , he thought.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr! broodywolf.tumblr.com :)


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